This job's a snap

On a typical field-goal attempt, an announcer usually identifies the holder (such as UCLA's Brian Calllahan, left) and kicker (Justin Medlock, right). But rarely, if ever, will fans hear the long snapper's name called (Riley Jondle). KEVIN SULLIVAN, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

They have helmets, mouthpieces and scholarships. They wear the same uniforms Matt Leinart and Drew Olson do. Their names have been said by Keith Jackson, the very voice of their sport.

And yet, they are not college football players. Not my opinion, theirs.

"On this team?" USC's Will Collins says. "Are you kidding? There's not even a chance."

UCLA's Riley Jondle recalls running onto the field once against Oregon and thinking more like a physics major than a football player.

"They had this huge guy named Igor something or other," Jondle says, referring to Igor Olshansky, a 6-foot-6, 309-pound side of a barn now obstructing views for the San Diego Chargers. "I saw him and thought, 'Lord, get me out of here alive.'"

Theirs is an interesting perspective, which isn't surprising since they view the game upside down and from between their legs. They are long snappers, meaning they are specialists, like kickers and punters, most of whom are better equipped to be fantasy football players.

But also like Leinart and Drew, Collins and Jondle are asked to pass the ball. The difference is, if they throw an incompletion, the play isn't dead, but they could be by the time they reach the sidelines.

Simply put, theirs is the most thankless job in sports, worse even than the guy who has to collect the returnables left by the Budweiser Clydesdales. Think about it: They receive no credit, zero attention, not a penlight's worth of spotlight - unless they fail.

TV will show replays of great blocks by offensive linemen, great recoveries by holders and great reactions from guys not in the game. But TV never replays a long snap because of how fantastic it was.

As a fan, even you have a better chance of making "SportsCenter." All you have to do is attend a game ... and fall asleep. They love showing replays of that, an ideal snap no match for an idle nap.

Think about this, too: If Collins or Jondle is in the game, there are either points on the line and/or it is fourth down, the most crucial of all downs. In other words, every moment for them should come with a Maalox chaser.

A receiver can drop one pass and catch eight, and everyone talks about the eight receptions. A long snapper can have one bad snap and eight good ones, and everyone talks about the one bad one.

Yeah, people certainly would remember Collins' and Jondle's names then, much like other great examples of embarrassing failure, like "New Coke" and "Paul Hackett." Otherwise they will be no more famous than the person who delivered this newspaper.

Next time you're at a game, listen closely. The public-address announcer typically identifies the holder and the kicker. The punter always is introduced. But the long snapper? Might as well be a mannequin.

The only time Collins has heard his name bellowing through a stadium was before one of the Trojans' spring games at the Coliseum.

"It freaked me out," the sophomore says. "If they announced my name at a real game, I think I'd laugh. Either that or I'd start shaking."

Although long snapping doesn't offer the chance to become famed, it does offer the opportunity to be maimed. Because of the need to be flexible, long snappers generally aren't giants. Collins is 6-foot-2, 220 pounds; Jondle is 6-3, 215.

Defensive linemen consider these proportions to be just about right - if they're ordering a pizza.

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